


a holy wonder

by theformerone



Category: Naruto
Genre: Canon Compliant, Light Angst, M/M, they're dead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-30
Updated: 2018-08-30
Packaged: 2019-07-04 11:09:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15840027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theformerone/pseuds/theformerone
Summary: They always managed to stay one step ahead of each other. Until Tobirama stepped in too close, and Izuna didn't move.





	a holy wonder

When he sees him, on the other side, Tobirama's heart tries to do something complicated in his chest.

He still looks so _young_. He hadn't been a day over twenty-five when he died. Tobirama barely made it to his forties before he kicked it. But Izuna? Izuna is still in his prime. 

"You look terrible," Izuna says, sounding awfully happy about it. 

Tobirama feels like death itself. The shinigami came for him while he was impaled on two swords. He's fairly sure there are pieces of him on the battlefield. But there are no pieces here. 

It isn't the Pure Land. It can't be. For one, Tobirama isn't even sure he believes in it. He only vaguely remembers the gods of his childhood. His mother's gods, those of her distant Uzumaki blood. He wasn't buried as Senju custom dictated. His body was not placed deep into the earth. His stomach was not scooped out and filled with rich, black soil. No tree was planted there. He cannot ascend. He _cannot_. 

"Really hate to break it to you," Izuna says, drawing Tobirama's attention again. "But you are dead."

Dead. Maybe he had bought Hiruzen enough time. Maybe Danzou would be able to - And the others - 

Tobirama is dead. There is nothing left for him to do. He had done his best, the same way all the men that had died before him had done their best. But he feels, he _knows_ that it was not enough. 

His brother's dream. His village. His Konohagakure. She's still at war. And Tobirama doesn't have faith that it will survive. 

"Don't look so down," Izuna presses, voice tender. He reaches out, and knocks his fist gently against Tobirama's shoulder. "There are plenty of people here happy to see you. Tōka's a right menace. And your brothers - ,"

His cousin. His  _brothers._ All of them. All of them here, in the Pure Land. Whole in a way that Tobirama hasn't been in years, in a way that his family hasn't been in years. Kawarama, Itama. Sage in hell, his  _mother_ was somewhere among the spirits here. 

Tobirama hasn't seen her face since she died giving birth to Kawarama. He isn't sure he remembers what she even looks like. 

"Breathe."

Izuna's fist on his shoulder becomes a firm hand on the nape of his neck. Tobirama sucks air into his lungs, tries to think past the grief, past the burning swell of hope and fondness and remembering and longing all coalescing into a perfect storm of coming _home_. 

"You - ," he says, tries to begin, but finds that he can't. 

Izuna's eyes are soft. He looks nothing like how he did that day. No blood. No shock in his sweet, dark eyes. No malice, anywhere on him. 

There had always been a quiet understanding between the two of them. Last surviving younger brothers, resigned to whatever fates their older brothers decided for them. Not out of some feeling of obligation, but from being born in the crucible of war. Of a fierce affection so deep, so strong, that there was no other option but to follow them into hell and back again. 

Only, Izuna hadn't followed Madara into hell. And Tobirama hadn't followed Hashirama either. Tobirama had sent Izuna. And then the Kinkaku Squad had sent him along, too. 

"You were supposed to _dodge_ ," he wheezes. 

Izuna freezes. Tobirama isn't going to cry. He's a man of forty. His childhood was a war, and he died on his feet in the one that came during his manhood. There is no use crying over death. It's been a fact of his life since the date of his birth. There were many older brothers between he and Hashirama the same way there were many younger brothers between Kawarama and Itama; not all of them lived. 

But Izuna. Izuna was supposed to _dodge_. Another secondborn, chasing his older brother's shadow as long as he could see it. A kindred spirit. Tobirama had recognized it from the first time he fought Izuna on the battlefield. Izuna always had a counter for Tobirama, and Tobirama always found a way through Izuna's defenses.

They always managed to stay one step ahead of each other. Until Tobirama stepped in too close, and Izuna didn't move. 

"You," he stammers, "you were _supposed_ to - ,"

Izuna presses his forehead against Tobirama's. And though he only looks like a man of twenty, Tobirama can feel his age. He's a man, grown as much as Tobirama has. He has seen his kinsmen join him, and he has seen the Senju come as well to this place where the war means nothing. 

"And you were supposed to go home," Izuna says. The corner of his mouth quirks up in a smile, and Tobirama has nothing to lose. He's already dead. He presses his mouth up, gives in to what had tugged at him in his youth. He takes, where he has only been able to give for the last forty odd years. 

Izuna smiles. Dodges a bit, lets Tobirama's mouth land on the corner of his lips. 

"We have time," Izuna says lightly. "All the time in the world."

Then, steadily, he rises to his feet, and helps Tobirama to stand. It's odd. He feels unsteady on his feet without his armor. Without his sword. But Izuna holds fast and doesn't let him stumble. 

"There are so many people waiting to see you."


End file.
